


Tacenda

by Chifuyu



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: A LOT OF DIALOGUE, Angst, Can't live with you, Hannibal the sad cannibal, M/M, Sassy Will, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Will and Hannibal throw metapors at each other, can't live without you
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-22
Updated: 2015-11-22
Packaged: 2018-05-02 22:24:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5266001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chifuyu/pseuds/Chifuyu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He turned on his heels, intending to leave when he heard the faint whisper reverberating from the cold walls.</p><p>  <em>I forgive you.</em></p><p>Hannibal stood still until the soft sound had died. Then he moved once more, never looking back, until the pleasant scent no longer surrounded him and frustration settled in. It was a feeling he rarely experienced and always it seemed like Will Graham was the one he had to blame for causing it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tacenda

**Author's Note:**

> I've fallen into Hannigram/Spacedogs/Tristhad hell and asked over at twitter for prompts in preparation for the Hannigram Holiday exchange. I'm still taking prompts so don't hesitate to hit me up on twitter: [StaticRaining](https://twitter.com/StaticRaining)  
> This one is for [LadyDeadPooly](https://twitter.com/LadyDeadPooly) who asked for Hannigram and what would have happened if Hannibal had revealed himself to Will at the end of Primavera.
> 
> Thanks also to [Kinlyu](https://twitter.com/Kinlyu) for being my lovely beta!

Rinaldo Pazzi's scent hadn't changed. It was a concoction of tobacco, coffee beans and sandalwood. Unpleasant as it had been in Hannibal’s youth, when he had lived in Italy and Pazzi had still been a law-abiding officer instead of a cheap bounty hunter. For a moment, Hannibal wondered how much Mason Verger had offered Pazzi for bringing him back to the States alive and in one piece. Enough for Pazzi to risk his life apparently. He scoffed and exhaled through his nose, itching to be rid of the offending smell. He didn’t come here for Pazzi.

Will’s scent was lighter and nearly overpowered by the stench of Pazzi, but he would’ve known it anywhere. He smelled of his dogs - of course he did - and of the sea, with a faint wisp of the encephalitis’ biting odour still lingering on his skin. He was healthy otherwise and wearing that atrocious aftershave of his. Some things never changed. He briefly entertained the thought of Will having applied it on purpose to unnerve Hannibal - successfully one might add.

He swallowed down the irritating urge to step into the open to reveal himself to this remarkable man, pull him close and press the tips of his fingers against the without a doubt still tender scar tissue on his abdomen. It was the sharp sting of betrayal that held him back, the events that had unfolded in his own home just a few months prior still fresh in his mind. Will had been supposed to come with him. Glorious and beautiful and perfect at his side, with blood dripping down his lips and righteous fury in his eyes. Instead, he went alone with nothing but a sore ache in his chest and Bedelia’s reprimanding words ringing in the back of his head.

He closed his eyes and breathed in. Will’s scent was getting stronger and he could hear the drag of his shoes against the uneven ground, no doubt he knew Hannibal was here.

Hannibal smiled, opened his eyes and moved silently the meandering paths running underneath the chapel. Will followed. Under different circumstances Hannibal might have enjoyed their little game of cat-and-mouse but not now. Pazzi was with Will, or close by. Hannibal could smell him and while he was certain he was the only one who had memorized the outline of the catacombs, he would not risk to cross paths with the police inspector by accident.

Will’s footsteps came to a sudden halt. A second pair of feet shuffling in the dark could be heard, like an inconsistent echo lasting a few taps longer before they too fell silent. He could hear two voices arguing, one thick with an Italian accent the other heavy with annoyance. Hannibal listened. He could make out only fragments of the conversation but it was obvious he was the subject of their dispute. Both men were looking for him and he had little intention of either of them finding him.

He turned on his heels, intending to leave when he heard the faint whisper reverberating from the cold walls.

_I forgive you._

Hannibal stood still until the soft sound had died. Then he moved once more, never looking back, until the pleasant scent no longer surrounded him and frustration settled in. It was a feeling he rarely experienced and always it seemed like Will Graham was the one he had to blame for causing it.

Pazzi was still in close proximity and roaming the catacombs despite Will’s dismissal of him. Hannibal could hear his heavy breathing as he stumbled in the dark. The wisest move would’ve been to flee, undetected and unseen, to avoid both Will and Pazzi. It would be impulsive to seek out the other, downright foolish even and Hannibal considered himself anything but. Will’s words were a bait, nothing more. 

It didn’t matter.

He took two steps, the first hesitant, the second insistent, both of them silent, and stepped into the dim light.

There was no surprise in Will’s wide eyes, no change in his expression, just pure determination as he regarded Hannibal with an intensity that made the corners of his mouth twitch. Not too long ago, Will had refused to meet his eyes. Now, he attempted to pin him in place with his gaze alone.

“Hello, Will.”

“Dr. Lecter.”

He didn’t try to suppress the smile blossoming on his face.

“Mere moments ago, you called for me using my first name,” he pointed out, voice tinged with amusement.

“Would you have shown yourself if I had pleaded using your last?”

“No.”

Will smiled, a broken little thing showing too much white.

“I’m impressed, Will. You manipulated me by using my own feelings against me. Bravo,” Hannibal said, his hands folded behind his back.

“Pah.” Will snorted, pulling in air in between his teeth. There was no triumph shining in his eyes, no prideful satisfaction in the curve of his shoulders. “You shouldn’t be here.”

Hannibal shrugged, a gesture so casual Will raised a brow in confusion.

“Neither should you. Yet here we are.”

A visible shudder went through Will at the whispered words but he pulled himself together a moment later.

“You and I. And Pazzi lurking in the catacombs.”

“He was wise enough not to confront me.”

“Because I told him not to.”

“Precisely. But you didn’t warn him out of the goodness of your heart or in a noble gesture to save the good detective’s life.”

Will twitched, his eyes bright in the dark and lingering on one of the mummified corpses standing dutiful watch over the dead, its empty eye sockets easier to meet than Hannibal’s piercing gaze.

“You know I’ll kill him and you don’t care. Why prolonging the inevitable?” Hannibal asked.

The air surrounding them was stale and unmoving, so thick Hannibal’s words cut through them like a butcher’s knife. Slowly, oh so slowly, Will’s eyes found focus and he met Hannibal’s with icy determination.

“Because I wanted to see you.”

Will spat out the words as if each syllable tore at the sensitive flesh inside his mouth.

“You don’t seem particularly thrilled to have come to this realisation,” Hannibal said.

He stepped closer until there was little left of Pazzi’s offending stench and only Will’s scent enveloped him. Will didn’t flinch. Instead, he snorted and scrunched up his nose in cruel amusement.

“Is it so surprising?” he asked. “You took her away from me.”

There was no need to ask whom Will meant when he spoke of _her_.

“Yes.”

“You took her because you wanted to hurt me the same way I had hurt you. That was the only reason she had to die, wasn’t it?”

Hannibal didn’t deny it. Will’s fury was righteous and he wouldn’t attempt to belittle his pain with platitudes and false condolences. The both knew what he had done and how it could never be undone.

“Is that what you came here for? To remind me of my past deeds?”

He observed Will closely, watched as his weight shifted from one foot to the other.

“No, it’s not,” Will admitted after some hesitation.

“You’re not entirely sure why you’re here yourself.” Hannibal concluded, a hint of satisfaction resonating in his voice.

Will glared at him but made no attempt to justify himself. They knew each other too intimately for such petty games.

“If I may offer a possible explanation?”

The contempt in Will’s eyes was scathing, but he tilted his head ever so slightly and Hannibal took it as permission to speak.

“Longing,” he began. “You crave to be understood for who and what you really are. I gave you that and now that I’m gone, it’s a hunger you find yourself unable to satisfy.”

Hannibal was so close he was positive Will must have been able to feel his warm breath on his skin.

“It’s a hunger we share,” he whispered.

Surprise flitted across Will’s face at the unexpected admittance but he schooled his features into pointed neutrality quickly enough.

“You said you gave me a gift. How much of a gift could it be when I never asked for it? I never wanted it.”

Hannibal was well aware that Will’s words were deliberately chosen to hurt. Yet, the knowledge did nothing to lessen the painful impact.

“So you’re here to return what I gave you?” he asked.

Will laughed, the sound bouncing off the walls in a cold staccato.

“I wish I could. I wish I could give everything back and just walk away.”

“But you can’t,” Hannibal concluded.

“No,” Will admitted, his jaw clenching, torn between laughter and frowning. “I can’t. Despite everything you’ve done. The things you still do. A heart, Hannibal? You made a heart and hoped I’d find it.”

“And you didn’t disappoint.”

“I couldn’t care less about disappointing you.”

“A bold statement considering you know from first-hand experience what it entails.”

Will’s eyes found his and there was a fire burning in their depths that couldn’t be dampened by their steely blue colour.

“Don’t you dare and try to intimidate me by spouting thinly veiled threats. We’re long past that.”

It was admirable for how long Will was able to hold Hannibal’s calm gaze, no trace of his previous hesitation left. However, his fingers were fumbling with the hem of his sweater, not far from where his scar must have run along his abdomen.

“You’re right, we are. I apologise.”

Silence settled over them, broken occasionally by the shuffling sounds of Pazzi fumbling in the dark, ever coming closer. Neither Hannibal nor Will were in any hurry to leave.

Hannibal lifted a hand to Will’s stomach, pressing against the scar hidden underneath coarse wool. The puckered edges were tangible even through the fabric. Will’s breath hitched but he didn’t pull away.

“Do you want to apologise for that as well?” Will asked, indicating the scar with a tilt of his head.

“No.” Hannibal pressed harder and the fabric of the sweater bunched up underneath his fingertips.

“Because you marked me this way?”

Hannibal’s thin lips curved in a pleased little smile.

“Because it brought you here.”

There was no doubt about it, Will would have never followed him to Florence if not for the mark he bore on his skin and soul. Hannibal had etched his name in flaming letters into Will Graham’s mind and the scar was another, not so subtle reminder. In a way it was even more so for him than for Will. A reminder of his own failure to cut out the part of himself that yearned for the other man with an intensity that left him breathless. Hannibal had punished Will, yes, but he couldn’t kill him.  
How could he not be fond of the mark running underneath his fingertips?

“Ridiculous,” Will huffed and covered Hannibal’s roaming hand with his own, keeping him from exploring the mutilated flesh any further. “You’re a monster. Don’t try to paint yourself as the victim of a tragic love story.”

“Repeating what the good detective had to say about me, Will? Calling me a monster?”

Will’s grip on his hand tightened and his nails dug so deep into his flesh Hannibal was sure it would leave him with crescent-shaped marks.

“Not _a_ monster. _The_ monster - _Il mostro_. Thinking yourself an artist comparable to Botticelli before you likened yourself to the doomed hero of an epic tale of pain and war. Achilles was it?”

Will bared his teeth at Hannibal when he pulled his hand away, his chin raised in defiance and his brows furrowed in rage.

“You weren’t Achilles and I wasn’t Patroclus. When you invited me to your table you were Tantalus playing a cruel game and I was unsuspecting Demeter. Not anymore.”

How strong was the urge to kiss Will at this moment? His clever boy knowing him so intimately, knowing exactly how deep to plunge the blade in order to hurt but not to kill.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he registered the noise from Pazzi’s heavy footsteps growing louder, but how could he force his body to move when Will looked at him like he wanted to rip out Hannibal’s throat with his teeth alone? They were close enough for Hannibal to smell his blood drying underneath Will’s nails.

Will tilted his head, his lips hovering over Hannibal’s, not quite touching but sharing each other’s breath.

“He’s here.”

A soft chuckle was Hannibal’s only warning before Will put both his hands on his chest and pushed. He stumbled back into the darkness, no doubt making an entertaining sight, but Will’s expression showed not even a shadow of his previous smile.

“Go!” he hissed and turned away without a second glance. “I’ll take care of Pazzi.”

Hannibal stood, motionless despite Will’s order, and watched as the other’s frame was swallowed up by darkness as he hurried along another corridor.  
Alone and enveloped in shadows, he smiled. It was a bitter-sweet thing. Love and betrayal mingling until they became one.


End file.
